Viconia's Secret
by Oryx
Summary: Thronecorp CEOs Sarevok Anchev and Viconia deVir have a new world to conquer : the lingerie business!


Sarevok Anchev, wearing a broad pearly-toothed grin and a dapper tuxedo, his bald head shining, strutted out onto the stage of the Five Flagons Theater House, located beneath the Five Flagons Hotel-Casino at Bridge Convention Center, and stopped just behind the podium. Above the stage, hanging from the ceiling over even the huge old fighter's bald head, was a banner that read "THRONECORP PRESENTS: VICONIA'S SECRET." To the left of the words was the logo of Thronecorp: a triangular geometric pattern exactly matching the tattoo on Sarevok's forehead. To the right of the words was a logo that resembled the black disc of Shar, but had an elegant calligraphic "V" superimposed on it. Back at the podium, Sarevok held a strange enchanted device, some sort of short black wand, and looked out over the audience, several thousand people strong. The massive tuxedoed warrior mused that it was good the Flagons had been expanded and renovated, the old one could never have held more than a few hundred, and the old wooden hulk probably would have broken off the bridge and sunk into the river if it had even approached capacity. Now, made of sturdy steel and concrete like the repaired bridge itself, the theater was part of the massive convention center which was built out from both sides of the bridge over the water. Even so, the large new theater had a full house. Sarevok grinned. A full house of eager Thronecorp customers.  
  
Sarevok held up his little black wand to his mouth and began to speak, his voice projected across the entire chamber.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us, for the second annual Thronecorp Fashion Show, live tonight from the Bridge District for those joining us via TSN, I'm your master of ceremonies, Sarevok Anchev!!"  
  
The live audience broke into deafening applause and Sarevok took a polite head-bow behind the podium. Meanwhile, across the multiverse, denizens of the Prime and other planes tuned in to the Thronecorp Scrying Network and watched as its parent company's CEO waved to the TSN camera-beholders and continued.  
  
"All your favorite brands and lines from last year will be back in full force, with some new designs and styles that are so cutting edge you'll just lose your head!!!" The ex-aspiring-Lord-of-Murder waved his microwand through the air in a two-handed-sword beheading-slash motion and the audience gasped and cheered as the tyrant-come-entrepreneur bellowed with laughter.  
  
"But first, let me sate your thirst with the most hotly anticipated new line of the season, redefining the meaning of 'less is more', the brand new label..." the titanic spokesman paused expertly while the audience held its breath in knowing, expectant anticipation, "Viconia's Secret!!!!"  
  
Right on cue, the runway that had been erected out from the stage lit up with harmless illusionary bursts of flames, and the curtain behind Sarevok opened. Every eye, audience member and camera-beholder alike, turned toward the slit in the curtain, and the master of ceremonies gestured dramatically toward it just as an achingly beautiful drow woman strode out wearing naught but an unbelievably skimpy shiny white two-piece of thong lingerie.  
  
Sarevok resumed booming to the audience, "It is my distinct pleasure to introduce our very first model, the progenitor and namesake of Viconia's Secret, the very lovely - yet deadly - miss Viconia deVir!" He winked to his wife, who blew a kiss back before strutting with her hands on her hips, making sure they and her bosom shook side to side conspicuously as she walked up to the podium and grabbed a second microwand, then stood just beside the podium (making sure she remained visible head-to-toe) and continued the narration.  
  
"That's right, Sarevok!" Viconia deVir spoke into the microwand while stage- smiling, her pearly teeth contrasting sharply with her smooth dark skin. "Viconia's Secret promises to be a revolution in lingerie, swimwear, and even adventurewear! As you can see here, we're taking intimates to a whole new level..."  
  
"I don't know," Sarevok quipped with a prepared interruption, "Looks to me more like you're cutting back!" The pun drew mixed laughter and groans from the audience.  
  
"Well, it's like you said," Viconia responded through an expertly acted giggle, "Less is more! And in that vein, I'm wearing here," she stepped forward from the podium and waved her hands over her body like a game show hostess exhibiting a prize, "A fine example of Viconia's Secret thong lingerie with bikini-cut top, in satin white...that's right, it does come as a bikini too!"  
  
On cue, Sarevok gestured toward the curtain again and a light-skinned blonde elven lady strutted out wearing an outfit matching Viconia's exactly in cut, but clearly made of a material more suitable for water.  
  
"Please welcome Aerie Destrus as she exhibits a Viconia's Secret thong- bikini, here in azure blue, just one of our many cuts of swimwear suited for aquatic action of any sort!"  
  
The avariel woman continued strutting out, hands on hips, down the runway, showing off a very alluring figure under (or mostly, not even under) her azure swimwear. Sarevok's eyes practically popped out in surprise (luckily for him, the drow hostess didn't notice). Over the years, Aerie had finally physically matured; at one time she could have been called a pretty girl but little else. Now, finally at elven adulthood, she was more than suitable for modeling her old archnemesis's new line of intimate clothing, and whereas she once would have blushed and cringed at being nearly nude in front of such a large audience, she now merely stage-smiled with her matching azure lipstick and batted her eyelashes as she spun at the end of the runway and began strutting back up it, drawing a chorus of howls and whistles as she showed off the back of her thong.  
  
"And for ladies with...different sorts of assets," Viconia grinned as Aerie reached the stage-proper again then back through the curtain after a final wave and bow, "Whether you be from the sky, the sea, or the furthest reaches of the multiverse, Viconia's Secret is cut for you!"  
  
Now two women appeared out of the curtain, one wearing lingerie like Viconia's, the other a bikini like Aerie's. The first of these women looked, though quite facially similar to Viconia, like a lighter-skinned half-drow elf, and also had a magnificent pair of wings sprouting from her back, and her bra had apparently been modified to accomodate them. The other woman, probably some sort of tiefling, had horns, a tail, and goat legs, and the thong of her bikini had also been adapted to accomadate her extra limb.  
  
Viconia continued as the two ladies strode down the runway, strutting with hands on hips and holding their wings and tail high. "Exhibitng our Toril Angel and She-Devil lines, please welcome Luna deVir, showing off Viconia's Secert lingerie like my own, cut for a winged elf; and Vanna'Dalis, a guest from the Sigil fashion world, showing off our thong-bikini made for the tailed temptress! Just be sure you don't go swimming in holy water, demon- dames!" Viconia stage-winked to Vanna'Dalis, who stage-laughed back. Viconia continued, "Acid- and fire- proof models are available for those with exotic uses in mind. That's right ladies, be you angel, devil, or anything in between, Viconia's Secret is designed for you!"  
  
The parade of models continued, with everything from hobbitesses to she- orcs, and at the first commercial break Viconia broke into a sales-pitch monologue and Sarevok dashed backstage. "Where's my illusionist!?" he shouted to the backstage crew. "JAN JANSEN!"  
  
"Right here, big guy!" Jan Jansen came speeding up on his stubby legs.  
  
"Where's my double?" the huge warrior demanded, peering down at his gnomish Vice-President of Research.  
  
Jan Jansen waved his short arms and chanted a few strange syllables and an exact illusionary duplicate of the tuxedoes Sarevok appeared right beside the original one.  
  
"Alright, take over," the real Sarevok sighed, brushing the sweat from his bald brow, "And you better have put Divination Immunity on him, gnome, or there better not be any overzealous Inquisitors in the audience tonight!"  
  
"Dontcha worry, Saro!" Jan laughed as the simalcrum of Sarevok walked across the backstage and went through the curtains to the podium and began speaking just as the first commercial break ended. "He'll do just fine!"  
  
"Just stick to the script," Sarevok sighed, "Don't go have my likeness start spouting any Jansen stories!"  
  
"You mean like the story I told you today about my new nephew Mikemilk Jansen who just got busted for short-selling junk bonds on the Athkatla Stock Exchange and when they came to arrest him they found 1,000,000 shares of turnip futures in his briefcase and added insider speculation to the...."  
  
"Yes, EXACTLY LIKE THAT ONE!" Sarevok roared down at the gnome. "Show business," he scoffed and walked down a backstage hall, coming to a door that bore a large golden star with "AERIE" printed on it, and gave three precisely timed heavy knocks.  
  
"Just a minute, bro!" came a man's voice similar to his own, and Sarevok chuckled to himself. A few moments later, the door opened just wide enough for a tuxedoed man to slip through. He was a well-muscled but clean-cut man, slightly shorter and thinner than Sarevok, with a face that resembled the dark warrior's but lacked the large scar, tattoo, or goatee; and a head that did have a brunette crew cut whereas Sarevok was bald.  
  
"Go break another leg, hun!" the man called lovingly into the cracked door as he shut it behind himself. "So what's up?" he asked Sarevok, while sheepishly straighening his tie, adjusting the card on his lapel that read "BACKSTAGE PASS - ONYX DESTRUS", and wiping the azure lipstick off his face with the back of his hand.  
  
"Man, I hate show business," Sarevok sighed and wiped more sweat off his brow. "Join me upstairs?"  
  
"Sure thing, bro," Onyx nodded.  
  
The two brothers and old archnenemies strode down the hall, and came to a weird metal doorway with a few buttons outside it. Sarevok pushed one, and the two doors slid apart, the men walked into a small chamber and Sarevok pushed another button, and they closed again.  
  
"I know what you mean," Onyx began as the chamber began to shoot upwards through the Five Flagons Theater House and into the Hotel-Casino above, "But don't worry, the show is going great!"  
  
"It's only the first break," Sarevok rolled his eyes, "You were always too friggin' optimistic, morningknight."  
  
"C'mon, dark warrior, the audience is eating it up! Every Z. Crew store in Faerun is going to be jammed with customers come tomorrow! You'll have to make new outlets just for Viconia's Secret!"  
  
"Well, let's wait til the numbers come in, shall we?" Sarevok sighed as the chamber doors opened, and the two men walked out into the penthouse-suite office on the top floor of the the Five Flagons Hotel-Casino.  
  
"Drink?" Sarevok inquired as they strode into his office, gesturing to the liquor cabinet behind his mahogany desk.  
  
"Maztican tequila," Onyx nodded.  
  
"A man after my own heart!" Sarevok bellowed. "The new stuff is great, isn't it? Thank heavens you and Anomen Delryn saved the New World from that nutty priest and myself, if only for the new trade or just the tequila alone!"  
  
"Yousa be wanting drinks, master?" a small flying imp exclaimed as it hopped out of the liquor cabinet and began using telekinesis to pour two drinks.  
  
"Cespenar!" Onyx chuckled as he noticed the black bow-tie around the imp's neck, "You're working here too?"  
  
"I be workin here, yes!" Cespenar screeched. "Mesa hadda cousin, Jar-Jar Blinks, who worked here until he got sucked throughsa portal to a time long, long ago in a dimension far, far away..."  
  
The imp "handed" a filled glass to Onyx, who sat down on the leather chair in front of the desk while Sarevok sat down behind it with his glass. The cavalier's eyes drifted across the office, and over to a table that had a large sand-colored diarama of Athkatla on it, with the Thronecorp assets such as the Bridge Convention Center painted black.  
  
"The world domination bug just never goes away, does it?" Onyx chuckled.  
  
"Nope," Sarevok mused as he sipped his tequila. "Nothing like a good hostile takeover. Acquiring Jansen Technologies Inc. last week was the most fun I've had all season. Atlhough I think that blasted gnome was happy to have most of his management responsibilites taken from him; although I did post him as 'Vice-President of Research.' Likes his tinkering better. Practically blew up the entire laboratory and half of the still-called 'slums' district just yesterday." Sarevok gazed past his brother at the large picture windows, which looked south over the Athkatla nightline, at the rest of the renovatd bridge district and the gentrified slums district.  
  
"Working better this way, though, no?" Onyx asked. "Thronecorp has added triple the value that Jansen Technologies was ever trading at since then, if I recall?"  
  
"That's right," Sarevok nodded, "Some of that was this week's organic grown - mostly anticipation of the new apparel we're showcasing tonight, I think - but the market capital of the JansenTech portion has gone up about 250% by our estimates. Competitive advantage, you know, we've restructured things; that blasted gnome had such a convoluted business model it was almost a joke. Sorta like this blasted fru-fru-fest."  
  
"I'm telling you, the show's going great. Check after-hours trading, you'll see," Onyx insisted.  
  
"You're actually starting to sound like a businessman, brother!" Sarevok laughed. He reached for a crystal ball on his desk. The metal base had a label that read 'JBM: Jansen Business Machines' and had a bunch of metal buttons at the base that he started punching. The sphere began to glow, displaying a bunch of rapidly moving numbers, and Sarevok laughed. "310 2/8!! TC was at 291 7/8 at closing! Wonderful! Perhaps you do have more of a knack for public tastes than I. You know, I've been looking for a new Director of Marketing."  
  
"I thought you'd hired Xan for that?" Onyx frowned.  
  
"Only as a part-time marketing consultant, silly wizard refuses to leave his tenured position at Spellhold University out in Brynnlaw. Besides, he's so dour! I don't care if he specializes in enchantments, I need someone more upbeat! And that's where you come in, brother. Why, if you could pour even a fraction of your personal charisma into catchy ads, we'd be selling Jan's Refriga-Chests to the tribes of Icewind Dale!"  
  
"Thanks, Saro, but I don't think it works like that," Onyx chuckled, "I'd be no good. And besides, I'm quite happy."  
  
"Bah!" Sarevok scoffed and swigged his tequila. "At least give it a try! I thought you had ambition, brother! Don't give me any of that paladinic above-pride-and-covetousness nonsense, I know your heart, and it has served you well! Don't tell me your'e getting soft!"  
  
"I never denied or decried ambition," Onyx shrugged, "But I prefer serving fellow and country in my current manner. And really, I just don't have your intelligence or business acumen. Competitive advantage, like you say."  
  
"No pain, no gain! You'd learn fast, I'm sure. No sense of curiosity, tsk tsk. And don't give me that civil-servant crap, you old goody-goody!" Sarevok shook his nearly-empty glass about. "High Protector of Amn, indeed!" he scoffed disdainfully.  
  
"I'm not a civil servant; I'm military, you know that," Onyx insisted calmly. "Defending the innocent is what I've always been best at, and that's what I'll continue to do. But you know I respect entrepreneurship as much as any, and congratulations on your success....and I'm not just saying that because I'm a shareholder," Onyx winked and took a sip of tequila.  
  
"If only that blasted bureaucrat Nalia Corthala would say as much," Sarevok groaned. "She's practically breaking me with all these taxes and regulations for her little social engineering projects! And they wonder who so few black-market types ever go legit."  
  
"I speak with Valygar frequently; and I think she's starting to change. I think the people are too," Onyx said calmly.  
  
"Then, optimistic paladin, I have to question your divination skills," Sarevok scoffed and reached into his desk. He pulled out a leaflet, and tossed it across the table to Onyx, who picked it up and began to read it.  
  
The small print at the top read "All Natural Inks - Printed on Recycled Parchment." Beneath, the large green banner read "THE AVENGER - THE DRUID FREE WEEKLY." The brown, bold headline read "THE MILITARY-INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX: IS AMN BECOMING A MEGACORPORATE POLICE-STATE?"  
  
"Torm's toenailsl!" Onyx exclaimed as he noticed the illustrations, which were three juxtaposed, unflattering mug shots of Sarevok, himself, and Valygar. The caption underneath read "LORD SAREVOK ANCHEV: CEO OF THRONECORP. SIR ONYX DESTRUS: HIGH PROTECTOR OF AMN. SIR VALYGAR CORTHALA: CHIEF INSPECTOR OF AMN."  
  
Onyx began reading aloud, using his intonation to give his brother his opinions as he went along. "It has become passe and indeed cliche to remark that the past few decades have been a renaissance of social and environmental justice in Amn, largely attributed to Chancelloress Nalia Corthala, with her social programs to help the poor, underpriveledged or disadvantaged, reforming of the Cowled Wizards, increased protections of the environment, and routing of crime and corruption that once plagued Amn. Recent trends paint a different and much more disurbing picture, however. There has been a dramatic consolidation of wealth into Thronecorp, the merger of the former Zhentarim and Irone Throne power factions now turned single capitalistic behemoth by tyrannical Bhaalspawn Sarevok Anchev, who claims to have reformed both the organization and himself. But has this murderous dark lord truly reformed the Black Network, or just renamed it, and garnered the support of the fattened, complacent populace and an all- too-close government? For among the supposed government checks to corporate power is the shadowy former outlaw Valygar Corthala, now Chief Inspector of Amn and largely credited as the agent of the Cowled Wizards' reform at his chancelloress-wife's direction (a suspicious conflict of interests), who has used this and subsequent 'reforms' to expand his invisible but omnipresent reach over Amn with his veritable secret police of 'urban rangers.' The paladinc arm of the new fascist order is helmed by Sir Onyx Destrus, Bhaalspawn brother of Sarevok, adding the power of the theocratic and pretentious Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart, smacking of rolling back the clock to the days with the only social rights afforded the poor were the meager offerings of the church-state-blurring temples of Lathander and Ilmater. These three former enemies of the state turned darlings of the state, each with a cursed heritage, are positioning themselves to..."  
  
"Big deal," Onyx scoffed as he quit reading and tossed the paper down. "Nothing we haven't heard or read before. It's not even written well. It has the usual laundry list of paladin-jabs," Onyx glanced down at the story again, "They've got the 'bios' here. For mine, let's see, armor-polish joke, check. Horse-lover joke, check. Sexual-repression joke, check. Tin- man joke, check. Archaic-speech joke, check. The requisite adjectives 'sanctimonious,' 'theocratic,' 'preachy', 'narrowminded,' etc. check. One of the mixed blessings of base propaganda is that it is repetitive and very predicatable."  
  
"But effective!"  
  
"Hardly. It's just some rabble-rousing druids using envy- and hate- mongering to buff up the diminishing numbers who follow their bankrupt, inconsistent philosophy. They simply become more rabid as they become more desperate. It is weakness, not strength, that such extreme posturing shows. The brother I know wouldn't be scared by a few extremist druids."  
  
"It's not like the old days, where I can just lop their dirt-crusted heads off with a greatsword!" Sarevok protested. "You try to be good, and the druids treat you just the same! Evil was so much simpler..."  
  
"Then tell me, dark warrior, why you have stuck by your decision?"  
  
"I had a revelation, one these druids, and Nalia, the old Nalia at least, seem to have missed. I always thought that power, wealth, whatever form you put it in, had to be fought for, stolen, taken somehow. So how is one means any different to another? Thus my ambitions for the Throne, and Baldur's Gate, and Athkatla, and Suldanesellar, all easily justified. But when I ran the old Zhentarim, and before that the now-merged Iron Throne, which both terrorized and enterprised, I began to see how there was a difference between the taking or creating of wealth or power."  
  
"Or taking or creating life," Onyx smiled and rubbed the handkerchief of Aerie's tucked into his dinner jacket pocket, "Those both fathers and warriors should know."  
  
"Yes," Sarevok sighed and his face brightened as he looked down at the picture of his Viconia on his desk. "Indeed, creation may even be more effective, for while in the taking one's potential is limited by what others have made available, in the creation there is no such bound. I now have more wealth and power, in my estimation, than I ever did as a militant tyrant. But morally, when I saw there were two distinct ways of things, one exercising freedom and one taking it, I became convinced that good was the one and evil the other."  
  
"Evil can also be the preventing of the one, and good the preventing of the other," Onyx added.  
  
"Indeed;" Sarevok nodded wisely as he sipped his drink, "And whereas I once did the first evil and thus contested with the second good, now I do the first good and contest with the second evil, and even the first."  
  
"And I still make my duty the second good, against the first evil, and sometimes the second," Onyx nodded. "You have learned well what good is, but I asked why follow it?"  
  
Sarevok frowned. "Well, isn't altruism almost inexplicable by definition?"  
  
"Some philosophers contend that following the 'good' wishes that please one's own emotions or aesthetics is not true altruism, but I'll make no such demand. Good actions are good."  
  
"Very well. As Viconia and I continued to fight and war and scheme - against each other as well as the outside world - and fail, for the most part, we grew tired of it, and though we had difficultly admitting any of this to each other, wanted to spend more time just together. At first, neither of us wanted to believe the other was more than a tool for our own power struggles and physical pleasure, but no, we were in fact in love. And we didn't want to get killed.."  
  
"You mean get killed again," Onyx smirked and gave his brother a wink.  
  
"Yes," Sarevok grinned sheepishly, "Again, or irrevocably, and we would make excuses to tear ourselves away from scheming and such to bask in quality-of-life pleasures and each other. We secretly envied you and Aerie - which might be silly, considering we dragged you into our wars as well."  
  
"Yes, I'm a much happier man now, and certainly so are you."  
  
"And so we should be. Men of our age should be gray and gaunt, but we have the same physiques as the first time we met."  
  
"Enhanced since, even; and it is so because of that."  
  
"Yes. And our beautiful and loving wives are archpriestesses and now underwear models, and we've become about the world's greatest conquerer- aggressor and hero-defender, the respective proclivities we seemed destined to pursue, don't we? And yet that's just it. For while yours is one of stability and order,"  
  
"...But also of freedom and liberty, oft a false dichotomy between them is made..."  
  
"Yes, but I mean you are happy when things stay good, whereas I...still desire the chase, the conquest, as you noted from my furnishings earlier..."  
  
"Including the ones in the back room," Onyx chuckled and pointed towards the ajar door to the executive bedroom of the suite, through which could be seen shackles, flails, gags, etc. hung around the bed.  
  
"Ah, heh heh," Sarevok grinned sheepishly, "Vic's idea. I swear.."  
  
"I believe you," the cavalier laughed. "Don't worry about a thing, it's safe with me."  
  
"Yes, well, I still desire...competition and aggression...in my life, and business has given me a way to channel these things."  
  
"Very good," Onyx nodded approvingly, "Paladinhood and evil-smiting and all that has always done much the same for me, turned these natures to good, indeed a good that could not have been attained otherwise."  
  
"Once a Bhaalspawn, always a Bhaalspawn, I suppose," Sarevok sighed.  
  
"Our father is utterly gone, brother. No, it is truly within us."  
  
"Is it still?" Sarevok smirked, his eyes trailing up to the pair of two- handed swords mounted on the wall behind his desk, the gaze issuing a silent challenge.  
  
Onyx's smirk accepted wordlessly, and Sarevok hopped up. "And don't you dare hold back one bit, you uptight knight, I'm as immune to mundane steel as you!"  
  
"But not to the humiliation you'll soon feel, brother," the cavalier licked his lips as he stood.  
  
"Cocky words for a holy second-rate warrior," Sarevok bellowed as he tossed one of the swords to Onyx and they strode to the open middle of the room.  
  
They gripped the two-handed swords firmly and raised them at the ready, the tips nearly touching, then bellowed the same war cry in unison.  
  
"Let the eternal battle begin!" 


End file.
